Great Weekend; One Disappointment

This weekend I struck a perfect balance between time alone and time socializing. It was the most enjoyable weekend I’d had in months.

Friday evening I did my errands, going to Wheaton to pick up a few things, including a ‘motivational’ pair of jeans, and I scratch box for Manuel. I came home and watched tv, then went to bed.

Saturday I got up and watched my Saturday morning cartoons, then headed down to brunch at the Diner in Adams-Morgan. I wandered around Dupont Circle, and eventually ended up at Zenobia Lounge in Georgetown, with turkish coffee, a hookah and my journal. It was inspirational.

Sunday morning I met a friend for brunch. We went to Medium Rare in Cleveland Park. The food was extremely good. The atmosphere was a bit fancy for me (I had to leave my plain black hoodie on, because I was wearing a graphic t-shirt and would’ve stood out like a sore thumb in the sweater and tweed crowd – fashionista-gay I am not), but the company was enjoyable. We walked around town, and had coffee at Illy. I bought too many books.

Monday looked gloomy, so I planned to stay in and finish reading Alexis de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America. A friend texted me wanting to know if I wanted to get the lacrosse stick and toss some balls. I did. We had a great time, and I learned a few things. Best of all, I got my stick broken in, and we played the Creator’s game on Indigenous People’s Day.

I returned home, finished Tocqueville, and watched my Monday television shows. The only down note was this: I’ve been reading Vincent Bugliosi’s new book on agnosticism. I’ve been looking for a clear and eloquent defense of agnosticism, and his book promised to take down the arguments of both theists and atheists alike. I had gotten a few chapters into it, and so far, so good. Yes, his style was a little quirky, and at times I had wished he’d gone a little further, or considered some points he did not consider. Then before bed last night I read his chapter on Darwin and evolution, and I was appalled. It was weak beyond excuse, and his argument basically boiled down to: “I’m not a scientist, but I don’t understand evolution, and since I find the evidence inconclusive, I cannot say that evolution is indeed a fact.” Well, Mr. Bugliosi, I’m not a scientist either, but I understand evolution, and geology, well enough to see how evolution must indeed be a fact. I was heartbroken: my hoped-for manifesto was so flawed, I cannot even make myself continue to read it at this point.

Johnny Cash is a Sufi Saint

"Johnny Cash rules the world."

—Jehangir Tabari, The Taqwacores (film, 2010).

I grew up with Johnny Cash. My maternal grandfather, the grandparent whom I most resemble in personality and appearance*, was a big fan of country music, and Johnny Cash was one of the musicians he sang along with. Johnny Cash had an iconic status which I did not entirely understand at the time. I grew up to realize that his rebellion appealed to people least likely to rebel: the folks who only wanted to work, earn the fruits of their labors, and go to church on Sundays to praise the Lord. Most rebels were seen as trying to destroy the culture; he was trying to redeem it by re-infusing compassion for the common man into its heart.

A couple of years ago I read A Heartbeat and a Guitar: Johnny Cash and the Making of Bitter Tears by Antonino D'Ambrosio. The book relates the social milieu in which Johnny Cash chose to write and have produced Bitter Tears, an album entirely dedicated to the situation of indigenous North Americans, their strength, their betrayal by the US government, and their endurance. Finding myself with a free hour one afternoon this week I went to the NMAI, and bought a copy of Bitter Tears in the shop. I listened to it on my commute in this morning, and laughed out loud at the lyrics to "Custer". It's a really good album.

I've heard hiphop artists refer to Johnny Cash as an "original gangsta"; punk rockers praise him for being proto-punk. The man transcended his genre. In the film The Taqwacores, Muslim punk Jehangir Tabari goes on about how amazing Johnny Cash was, and how Jehangir wishes he could be Johnny Cash, but didn't feel adequate. Jehangir felt small in comparison to the man he admired, but didn't consider that Johnny Cash too had once been a frustrated, troubled 'punk' who'd found a way to move forward.

Johnny Cash lived hard, sinned greatly, prayed fervently, changed his life, loved deeply, and cared immensely for people, both those who were his friends, and human beings in general. He had a great heart. In his autobiography, he recounts how at the lowest point in his life he went deep inside a cave near his home and essentially asked God to end his life; and yet he survived, emerged and moved forward. The story haunts me still.

Johnny Cash transcended religious dogma. He was about love, forgiveness and justice. He had vision.

His cover of Trent Reznor's "Hurt" reveals this. I read that when the video was finished, his producers sent a copy to Trent Reznor for him to review. Reznor happened to be in the studio with Zack de la Rocha (of Rage Against the Machine fame), and they played it. When the video was done, moist-eyed and speechless, the two of them silently went outside for a smoke break. He had taken Reznor's song and elevated it to a higher plain.

Johnny Cash rules the world.

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*Although I freely admit I exhibit personality traits of all my grandparents, e.g., maternal grandmother, a tendency to cry over anything sad and/or sweet, even if it's on tv; paternal grandmother, a tendency to talk to myself when working alone, so I can order my thoughts and processes; maternal grandfather, a love of telling stories and of chatting with animals directly; and paternal grandfather, a tendency to put a stoic, wry face on when confronted with human absurdity.